Falling In To Habit
by Kita Samuelle
Summary: Set between the six months of 'Mercy' and ' Hard Landing'. Michael's days are turned upside down as his own thoughts torture him in to a false life without Nikita. Spoilers for 'Mercy' and 'Hard Landing.'


**Disclaimer: I own nothing of LFN. This story is for non-profit entertainment only.**

He stares blankly at the wall in front of him, his moderating devices for the room off, despite the fact that he was doing nothing to hide from any of them out there. What did he care if they knew he was sitting in his office again after hours, doing nothing but going over every sweet moment of his memories with her?

Had he known it would hurt so much when he set her free? Had he known that it would impact his life, his every second of each day, so drastically?

His eyes left their spot on the wall to look down at his laptop, knowing there was no change but trying again.

_Nikita, are you there?_

His message had still gone unanswered. And now the memories had fled his mind and it was guilt that wracked his soul. He hadn't given her enough time. He should have told her in the beginning. Who would have known but the two of them anyway? But he wanted to make sure. Make sure every moment was convincing. He thought he could protect her secrecy better that way. But now he wasn't so sure he had protected her at all. '

He takes his message off of the screen and looks at the latest debriefing report that is due come morning. His mind was in no condition to write up anything that needed detail or preciseness, but he had little choice. Besides, the only time he could hide from his memories was when he buried himself in his work.

"She's alive." He whispers to the silence, just before his fingertips start to press down the keys. It's become a ritual, telling himself each day that she was, trying to convince his heart that she hadn't died at his hands. But now, as his fingers slow to typing nonsense words, he wonders if he didn't just lie to himself again today. If he had, he wondered how long he'd keep lying in order to keep the little sanity he still had in grasp.

Yet the one thing that kept him saying it day after long, meaningless day was the thought of 'how could she be dead, if I see her everywhere I go? If I can hear her words on the cold wind as I drive home each night?'

But tonight, a new thought plagued him. Had he unknowingly relied on her so much? Had every day really been filled with so much of her? Had his life really been consumed with helping, defending and saving her from certain death?

He had so much extra time on his hands, now that she was gone. Extra time that was slowly killing him.

Every once in a while, deep in the night, he'd open his eyes to see her reaching her hand out to him, beaconing him to come to her. As his mind would slowly wake more, she'd disappear before him, and he'd be left trying to make her image come back through the sleepless night. Only she could help set him free from this ultimate torture; this false, empty life.

An alarm on his watch sounds off, warning him again that he should be home. He waits for it to stop, then checks his messages, not able to leave without making sure once more before he goes.

Nothing. No sign of her life anywhere. He shut his laptop, telling himself that he'd have to be a fast typer later on to get the report completed before Operations demands it.

Stepping out of his office, he saw a few dozen people hard at work on the latest cases. Yet he never would have known if there had been hundreds here or none. As much as he could, he'd isolate himself in his little room, basking in the great awareness of being lonely. After all, no matter how many people were here, not one could understand.

"Only heading home now?"

Michael inwardly cringed as Madeline came to his side. Without bothering to stop, he nodded and kept walking. He was in no mood to be talking to someone that would only be trying to mess with his mind. His brain was scrambled enough of late, without the help of such a person. Before she could start again, he headed towards the elevator, quickly walking past Birkoff and Walter's sections before they could give him one of their angry glares at what they thought he had done.

What perhaps he had done after all.

Heading to his motorcycle, he prepared to go for a ride of which he'd see every blond haired woman as his Nikita, just to go to bed and wake up to her bidding him to find her. In the morning, he'd head back to Section, go on a mission to give his wandering eye a relieve, then head back to his office. For this is what he has been doing consistently for six months now, after all.

But tonight he'd really need his sleep, for in a few hours, they'd be capturing Freedom League in Lyonaiss...

As Madeline had told him before, he'd have to get over missing Nikita. Perhaps he'd work on that tomorrow...

X..K.S..X


End file.
